


Songbird

by trash_devil



Category: BioShock Infinite
Genre: Gen, Pre Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 08:40:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18178376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trash_devil/pseuds/trash_devil
Summary: He sang a few quiet notes as his wings wrapped around her, his priceless treasure, his jewel. His daughter.





	Songbird

His body felt so heavy, and yet, so powerful. The extra bulk to his limbs was but featherweight to this new strength.

His eyes opened with a click and a whirr, the light pouring forth from them painting the world around him red.

This was wrong, so very wrong, but he realized he didn’t care. He felt free, invincible; so what if something vital about who he had been was gone?

He heaved himself off the floor, his entire body creaking. He flexed his new hands, spread his new wings. If he could have smiled, he would.

In his new form, Booker DeWitt feared nothing.

… Or so he thought. The bliss did not last long.

He flung his wings against the wall with a deafening shriek, sending up showers of sparks. His heart, or what should have been his heart, beat frantically in his chest.

He was trapped, like a bird in a cage.

Booker beat himself against his metal prison. He wanted out, wanted sky, wanted the delicious freedom he had felt pumping through his veins just moments before. He opened his mouth to scream.

All that came out was a musical trilling. His outrage, his fear, was nothing but song.

He slammed against the walls until he fell back to the ground, all dented metal and torn leather and pain.

“He’s awake,” sounded a voice to his right. He turned his head to face it, and saw nothing but the same smooth cold steel.

And the thick silence continued.

Booker screamed, sang once more. He snapped his wings to their full length, this time feeling the walls give way beneath his strength. With a shrieking note of triumph, the rusted metal tore apart, and he launched himself up.

Stars and darkness. Sky.

He beat his wings clumsily against the air, and began to fly.

 

Birds have a tendency to crash into tall buildings. He was no different.

He slammed against the side of the tower, ripping through the structure as well as his own body.

When he hit the floor, he realized he couldn’t breathe. No air. Nothing, no matter how he gasped and wheezed.

A soft little cry came out as he huffed out what he thought were his last exhalations.

But then, the grind of gears, the complaint of rusted metal. A tiny square of light appeared near his eye. The brilliant white of it seared his dark-adjusted senses, and his eyes shuttered closed.

He could still hear the pattering of little feet on the floor. He could still feel small hands pressing hesitantly against his face, his breathing tube, moving things. A touch, a click, and air rushed back into him.

Booker reopened his eyes. A young girl stood there.

A strange tenderness, beyond even gratitude, lit up his heart. _Protect,_ whispered something inside of him, so he reached out his taloned hand to her.

She fit easily in his palm. He brought her close to his chest, where she curled up against the thick cloth and smiled up at him.

He sang a few quiet notes as his wings wrapped around her, his priceless treasure, his jewel. His daughter.

A father protecting his child. A bird guarding its shiny hoard.

“Songbird,” she said.

He trilled his agreement.


End file.
